Lets Turn Out The Lights
by jibbsloversunited
Summary: A round of Jibbsfest. Mostly rated K , but one T.
1. Welcome

Welcome to another round of Jibbsfest! The prompts this time were:

- "Let's turn out the lights and play in the dark."

- Abby impersonating 'the parents'

- Nail clippers

Sorry for the delay in a new round; two operations and an impending third one are causing problems in RL. Hopefully normal service will resume shortly.

If anyone is interested in participating in a future round, feel free to introduce yourself on the forum (Forums – TV – NCIS – Jenny&Gibbs – Jibbsfest) or PM me (MissJayne).


	2. Safe Fashiongirl97

**Title: **Safe

**Author: **Fashiongirl97

**Rating: **T_ (Highly Emotional)_

Her eyes closed, eyelashes brushing against the smooth shadowed skin that sat beneath her emerald green eyes. Mascara laden lashes, moist with tears long since fallen. Flecks of black, left over from old tears. Lines of worry, lines of fear . . . Her hand sat clenched in her lap, hair a mass of tangled curls swam around her face. The long red locks no longer tamed by the bobbles and pins that had formerly held it in place.

The room around her was a mess. Clutter and files strewn all over the place. Things once placed so precisely, now fallen ungracefully to the ground. Pictures with cracked glass splintered out like a skirt around it. Files mixed up, and scattered out like the golden dry leaves of autumn. Bourbon poured into a cut crystal glass and placed in front of her.

That was the single thing she had accomplished with shaking hands.

Anger, upset, worry annoyance, betrayal . . . she was fuming, and yet all she wanted was to see him, hug his muscular chest and cry in his arms. Listen to the steady, soothing, rhythmical beating of his heart beneath his chest. Let her senses be infused with his smell of bourbon, coffee and sawdust, and then feel herself relax.

Then the tear came again.

And then another.

She'd broken down.

The screaming, the shouting, the rage and the anger had faded out into just plain upset.

She'd thrown everything in sight on the floor. She'd trashed her entire office. Everything that could be broken was. Everything that meant nothing was gone. Everything that could, except for that one picture: their wedding photo.

The one where her hands were placed on his shoulders, he was crouched in front of her. She'd hiked her long straight white dress up to show the garter beneath, in the photo he had it between his teeth and both were laughing. Behind them there was grass and sun – the Parisian springtime. The white of her dress making her looked angelic, whilst his dress uniform made him look like the hero he truly was.

The perfect day; nearly a whole year ago.

He'd been recalled and deployed back to Iraq a month later, leaving his new wife home alone, running an agency and working her fingers to the bone so that she would simply not die of want for her husband. Ten and a half months since she last saw him. Eleven months since she kissed him, hugged him, felt his warm embrace…

Jenny wanted her husband.

Wanted to see his signature smirk.

She wanted to laugh at those rare and spontaneous jokes.

Wanted to tell him off for being over protective.

She wanted him to come home.

He had been due back in three days. She could deal with that. But then the call had come that the ship on which he had been travelling home on had been damaged; blown up.

He'd been blown up for a third time!

How unlucky could one man be?

How was she to know that his luck had not run out?

She hadn't heard the rest of what was said by the commander whose image had been displayed in MTAC. All she had heard was that they were sending all the members to Norfolk Naval Hospital, and yet no one was allowed to visit. No one was allowed to see the men and women who held places in their hearts. She'd stood there, in MTAC, saying all the right things. Yet she had stood there as a military wife and not as Director. As a woman who may never see her husband again. However as soon as the screen had flashed back: gone dead, the walls had risen back up and she had been Director all over again.

Standing there, Jenny was almost in a dream world – a nightmare. Every single person who surrounded her seemed to be moving in slow motion. The world had been slowed down. Every sympathetic look from technical support staff, who did not even remember the man who had caused this incident, seemed to last twice as long. Every whispered word seamed twice as loud.

Her feet moved without even being told to.

Heels clicking she walked out of the blackness. Out of the room where she could almost crouch into a corner and disappear, and into the world where she was out in the light. Out where she was the centre of attention.

Looking down on his old desk, now occupied by Tony, seemed too hard.

The desk where he had sat for years. Back when she was a probie and he was the king. When she was his partner and he balanced the equation. The days when she took centre stage and he was the understudy. Then the days she missed when they'd pass those secret looks.

That was his desk, and it always would be.

Fingers, cold and shaking traced the lines on his face. The smile on hers and the smirk on his. Eyes lit up like Christmas lights. The Parisian spring, there really had been no other place for them to get married. Memories on every street, and new ones being made on every other. Family desperate to know the past whilst their lips stayed firmly shut.

If only she could stay in that moment.

Live in that day and never come back.

The knocking on the door was almost hesitant. Evening had long since settled. Those few weekend agents had left. It had only been then that she had lost it, her pride too strong to be sheltered. Her voice didn't seem like hers when she spoke, too weak and feeble. "Yeah." That was all she managed, not trusting herself to say any more.

It was Tony who walked in. The man who she had done wrong by, and yet the man who had somehow found it to forgive her. His son, in so many respects, as well as hers. The man who had become a support system. Now, though, his eyes were reddened by crying, just as she knew so many others' would be. No cocky persona, smug smile or glinting eyes. He'd almost retreated into his shell.

"Tim is with Abby. She's a mess, Ziva is with Duck, I left them all talking." Never did he use Tim McGee's first name, and just in the same way Gibbs had used it all those years ago after Kate's death – he used it now.

Jen felt herself nodding, not knowing what else to do.

"Have you heard anything?" His tone was hopeful… wishing.

His feet moved as though he was dancing, avoiding each broken piece of a mucked up puzzle of pain. A crack signalled his failed attempt. A pair of nail clippers sat broken on the carpet.

Even his face which resembled that of a guilty child couldn't allow anything more than a sad smile to pass across her features. "Oops."

"I don't even know where the hell they have come from." She said voice hoarse, and threatening to break. Eyes were once more swimming with tears. Look cast down, her hand went to cover her mouth and muffle a sob.

Her spare hand reached out to grab the bourbon filled glass. The burning amber liquid slid down her throat almost painlessly. Not a wince visible. Long slender fingers which held the glass went white as her sorrow was replaced once more by rising anger.

"Why him?! Why did it have to be him?!" Her voice rose as anger spilled out. The crystal cut glass flying gracefully across the room.

Assumptions had already been made.

Could a man truly be that lucky?

"I'll kill him! I swear to god I will kill him."

Everyone stood in the doorway. Her walls were down; none of them knew what to do. Eyes were red, hands held, eyes cast down. "The kids don't like it when mummy and daddy fight." Abby spoke with innocence only a child could muster up.

A smile so small a magnified glass would almost be needed in order to see it fell across her red lips, but like snow on wet ground it would not settle. "We won't fight." Her voice was shallow, empty, as though she could not imagine it.

"No." Abby's words were happy, the only person in the world who ever could be. "No, he will go _'oh Jenny I love you, your red hair is so pretty!' _and then you will go _'Oh Jethro I love you so much! With your sexy silver hair'._"

Smiles fell upon all of their faces.

One hopeful person amongst the mix.

A grandfather stood back, worry so visibly etched upon his aged features.

Cautiously, with silent movements he made his way over. Steadily and with a presence that calmed even the most upset of souls. He sat down beside the weeping red head, and wordlessly pulled her into a warm embrace.

No one had ever seen their Madame Director cry.

Never seen her without her pristine walls and floorless appearance.

As she sobbed for her husband, they all cried for their father.

And Ducky could do nothing but pray to the lord that he would pull through.

"He'll make it my dear, and he will be fine." But his voice was forcibly comforting, as though there were a part of him he could not convince.

The streetlights outside of the window brightened at the ever growing darkness that surrounded the agency. Their mellow light filled the room with a soft glow, shards of glass sparkling like the most precious of gems known to man. Beauty was ignored, small insignificant aspects that did nothing but remind her of how his eyes would sparkle when he laughed.

To hear his laugh was all she wanted.

To see those sapphire irises light up with joy.

For him to be home.

Safe.

There he stood, as though through the mind's eye an image of hope.

But he was more than that.

She didn't see, with her head buried in her surrogate father's chest she didn't see.

"Jennifer my dear . . ." The man began, attempting to get her to see what the whole room was staring in disbelief at.

"I know, I need to be positive."

"No, my dear, it's not that."

His voice was soft, filled with concern yet gruffer than usual from smoke inhalation; concerned for her as she had been for him. "Jen?" The nickname only he dared to use, raised her from her pity. The redhead's eyes shot up, familiar and welcome.

Her legs made her run and she didn't think to stop them. Over to him and leaping from the ground into his arms. "You stupid stupid man!" Voice hoarse from crying, cracking with emotion. "You can't do this to me! You can't!" Her hand hit him on the arm, wanting to be harder than it was as the tears fell onto his mucked up uniform.

"I'm sorry."

His own rule broken by its creator, but she silenced.

Eyes closed at the familiar comfort as safety pulled her close.

"I love you."

Murmured by both before a searing kiss that left them with heaving chests and wanting so much more.

"You're okay?" A still timid and scared Abby said, from further back as she watched the scene unfold before her eyes.

The man whom they all cared about standing tall.

Face slightly cut.

Stitches above his eye.

Burns visible on the pale backs of hands.

"A couple a' cracked ribs and minor burns. I'll be fine."

Yet nothing would prove it to the child like one.

Only a hug.

His hand still intertwined with his wife's, he hugged his 'daughter'. Glad to see them all.

Each took a turn to welcome him home.

Knowing he would not go back again.

His wife still scared and worried.

The way a wife should be.

Neglecting the torn up room for the night, and leaving it for another day. Hand in hand the couple left, listening to the soundtrack of their family behind.

Standing up on the catwalk where he'd watched her so many times. They came to a stop.

Looking deep in her eyes, and looking deep in his, both knew they would not be separated for a long time.

He kissed her again.

She kissed him back.

Soft lips crashing together in their own unique language.

When they parted once more, to the sound of moaning from others, smiles finally found their way to both of their faces.

A tear fell down her smooth, flustered face.

Thankful, relieved and grateful.

Wiped away be a callused fingertip, foreheads touching perfectly.

Two pieces of the same puzzle.

The ying and the yang.

Strawberries and cream.

Like Ginger Rogers, and Fred Astaire.

Elizabeth Bennet and Fitzwilliam Darcy.

Jennifer Shepard and Leroy Jethro Gibbs.

With his signature smirk placed fittingly upon his face, he spoke so only her ears could listen: "Let's turn out the lights and play in the dark."

Sweet laughter filled the room like music to their ears.

The couple ran off, the newlywed time they had missed.

No one was offended he wanted to be with her.

They'd see him the next day, and the day after that, and the day after that… because they knew there was no way their redhead would ever let him return.

Hours later, when the sun finally began to reappear. Silvers of light slipped through the thick curtains into their marital house, falling upon their sleeping forms. Absorbed in the embrace of their love, content at the fact they were finally together.

More than anything, they were safe.


	3. Memorial Day Fun OrtonsMistress

**Title: **Memorial Day Fun

**Author: **OrtonsMistress

**Rating: **K+

_Disclaimer: Anyone you recognize I do not own. I only own Catie. The others are owned by Donald Bellisario._

Tony and Ziva were sitting in the squad room waiting for McGee to come back up with Abby, so they could discuss the upcoming "family" cook-out at Gibbs and Jenny's house.

"Tony, do you actually plan on doing some work today?" Ziva asked, looking across the room at him. "Gibbs wants this paper work done before we leave for the weekend."

"Well Zee-vah, I am practically done with my paperwork," he answered, as he relaxed back in his chair. "I'm just trying to get into relaxation mode now."

Shaking her head lightly, Ziva went back to her own paperwork, when a sharp head slap sent Tony's head flying forward. "Get to work DiNozzo," came the gruff sounding voice of Gibbs, or at least who he thought was Gibbs, until he turned around and saw Abby and McGee smirking at him.

"Not funny Abs," he muttered, looking back at the papers on his desk.

"What's the matter Tony, you afraid that it was actually going to be Gibbs catching you slacking off on the job?" McGee asked, as he walked back to his desk.

Sending the younger agent a quick glare, Tony started to quickly finishing filling out the forms to have up to the director, before he left that night.

"So what is everyone bringing to the picnic?" Abby asked, breaking up the silence that had fallen over the team.

* * *

Jenny was sitting in the living room the next afternoon, giving herself a mani-pedi, while Gibbs was out getting the grill ready to put the burgers and hot dogs on.

"Mama paint," Jenny and Gibbs' two and a half year old daughter Catherine said, walking over to where Jenny was and held out her hands in front of her.

"Well Miss Catie, let's see what we can do," she said, looking through her travel make-up bag to find the tiny nail clippers she uses on her. Not finding them in the bag, she decided to use her own, just with every intention of being a lot more careful. "Now let's go find you a pretty color to wear that won't freak your daddy out."

"That pretty mama," she replied, pointing to the light purple that Jenny was currently painting her own nails with. "We match."

"All right baby girl," she said, as she settled her down across from her. "I need you to hold still while I trim your nails."

"Okay," she replied, swinging her legs lightly in the chair.

"Now I want you to be on your best behavior today," she started, as she quickly but diligently clipped the toddler's nails. "If Tony tries to talk you into pulling a joke on me or daddy, you come tell us okay."

"I will mama."

"Good, now let's paint your nails and go see if daddy needs our help."

* * *

After everyone had finished eating, they were sitting around in the backyard watching as Tony was chasing Catie around with a squirt gun.

"Daddy help," she giggled, running over to where he was sitting and hiding on the other side of him. "Tony gonna get me."

"Well I can't let that happen," he replied, sharing a playful wink at her. "Watch this."

With that said he reached down and grabbed the hose from where it was coiled next to him.

"Come here sweetie," Jenny said, as Catie moved over onto her lap. Smirking lightly at her husband, she was sent into laughter; along with the others as Gibbs quickly turned the hose on Tony, effectively drenching the very special agent.

"Ah come on boss," Tony sputtered, as he tried in vain to squirt Gibbs with the small super soaker he had. "That's not fair."

"You give up yet Tony?" Jenny asked, as Catie snuggled into her and giggled.

"Yes!" he exclaimed, as Gibbs finally turned off the water.

"All right," she said, standing up with Catie. "Jethro, I'm going to get Catie bug in the bath and ready for bed."

Getting up, Gibbs walked over to where Jenny was standing. "Night sweet pea, see you in the morning," he said, taking his daughter up in his arms.

"Love you daddy," she said, leaning in and giving him a sloppy kiss.

"Love you too."

* * *

Once Jenny came back outside, after getting Catie bathed and into bed, Abby was quick to suggest a game of hide and seek in the dark.

"It'll be fun Gibbs. We'll turn out all the lights inside and the lights you have in the backyard," she started, when she saw him about to nix the idea she quickly continued. "We won't go upstairs and disturb Gibblet; we will stay on this floor or outside."

"All right," he conceded, as Tony clapped his hands together in excitement; making Gibbs shoot him a warning look. "If you guys wake my daughter up, there will be hell to pay."

"Yes boss," the team all muttered, as Abby said she would be it first.

McGee hid in the back of the living room closet while Tony and Ziva snuck out to the backyard.

"Come here," Jenny whispered, tugging on her husband's hand and pulling him down into the basement.

"What?" He asked with a chuckle, as Jenny led him back to a little hiding spot under the stairs.

"I think we have some time before Abby comes looking this deep in here," she answered softly, backing herself up against the wall and grabbing him by the belt loops pulling him up against her. "Feel like playing our own game in the dark?"

Instead of answering her, he tangled his fingers in her long red locks, tilted her head back and started kissing her neck. Moving his lips down the column of her neck, he nipped at it teasingly, eliciting a moan from her. "Shh Jen," he scolded playfully. "You can't be moaning down here, otherwise someone will hear you upstairs."

"Well I guess I need to occupy my mouth then, don't I?" She questioned playfully, before rising up on her tip toes and kissing hi, the passion and intensity flowing from her. She knew they were safe for a while, knew that they would hear Abby or someone before they came downstairs. Sliding her fingers up under his shirt, her hands splayed across his chest.

"Damn Jen," he moaned, breaking away from the kiss, as they made quick work in ridding themselves of their clothes.

* * *

Almost three hours after they started the game, the team was sitting in Gibbs living room trying to think of where their boss and bosses boss were hiding at.

"Why don't you just call Gibbs phone, Tony?" McGee suggested, knowing that would probably be the only way they would find them.

"You should call him McScaredy pants," he retorted childishly.

Rolling her eyes, Ziva grabbed Tony's phone from his belt and called Gibbs phone.

"Yeah Gibbs," he answered sleepily, making Ziva furrow her brow, wondering where he was sleeping at.

"Gibbs, we have agreed that you and Jenny won the game," she started, looking around the room, waiting for them to pop up out of nowhere. "We want to leave but none of us have a key to lock up."

"Okay, we'll be there in a minute."

"Very well."

* * *

Once Gibbs and Jenny came upstairs, Abby smacked McGee's arm. "I thought you said you looked downstairs?" She asked, making him shoot her an indignant look.

"I did, but it's hard to see in his basement when there is light on, let alone when it's pitch black," he grumbled lightly.

Getting Abby calmed down, Gibbs gave her and Ziva a hug and kiss on the cheek, before telling them to be careful driving home.

"Today was a lot of fun," Jenny mused, after they made sure all the doors were locked and they were headed up stairs. "Catie sure enjoyed herself."

"Yeah, she's got someone to play with that's on the same maturity level as her," he said jokingly, as they stood in their daughter's doorway and stared at her sleeping peacefully in her toddler bed.

"Jethro, be nice," she admonished, but the hint of a smile was tugging at her lips. "Come on, let's get to bed. I know Catie is going to have us up early."

Nodding his head lightly, Gibbs took his wife's hand in his and led her down to their room.

"Love you Jen," he said, once they were settled in.

"Love you too," she replied lovingly, as she leaned in and kissed him gently.


	4. And Play in the Dark MissJayne

**Title: **And Play in the Dark

**Author:** MissJayne

**Rating:** K+

Abby Scuito hated NCIS seminars. It wasn't that they were completely boring and pointless; more she felt they weren't relevant to her.

Why did she need to attend communication seminars? She worked alone and still managed to communicate her findings to agents without complaints. Plus she managed to impart extremely complex techniques and analysis to people who were untrained in the dark arts of forensic science. _And_ she was the only person in the building who could interpret Leroy Jethro Gibbs' infamous moods. Sometimes.

What about teamwork seminars? Trust falls and silly exercises, and the guys from Finance with wandering hands and some idiot from HR who simply couldn't understand the concept of working as a team (while Abby couldn't understand how he ended up in her group every year). Not to mention she didn't work in a team anyway. It could be argued her machines were her fellow teammates, but Abby felt this missed the point that she was in charge of them at all times, even if Major Mass Spec mutinied on a regular basis, and it was not as though she had to rely on them to save her life in the field.

And then there were those seminars on _how to deal with stress_. Not one had yet to recommend a steady influx of caffeine and a stuffed farting hippo. Despite her always winning the annual NCIS Christmas Award for _Most Cheerful Individual_, no one had asked her to present a seminar on dealing with life. She thrived on stress, loved the challenges thrown at her (sometimes literally) on a daily basis, and was resolutely upbeat at the same time. No course could ever teach someone to be like her.

In addition, there were the facilitators. Overly cheerful people, who weren't genuine about their happiness. Oh, Abby knew when a smile was faked. Every agent in the room knew it was an act (they hadn't gone through all of those _Body Language 101_ courses for nothing). Yet these people simpered and fawned and beamed so wide their wisdom teeth were visible (if they were old enough), and tried to pretend they knew what it was like to work in an armed federal agency full of stress and coffee.

Abby was more than willing to attend the seminars, provided she wasn't being called away from something more urgent. They were something different, new experiences, a chance to learn more about herself. What she objected to, and had objected to rather strongly last week in the Director's office, was the follow-up. What was the point in listening to some random person who they would never see again talking about how he or she knew it all? Why not encourage people who already worked for NCIS to share their knowledge?

Jenny had listened carefully and come up with a suggestion. It was the time of year for new probationary agents to be given guided tours of the Navy Yard. Was it possible for a short seminar on forensics and Abby's role within NCIS?

The young Goth had smiled her widest smile, and promptly blackmailed the Director into assisting her (although naturally the Incident in question would be shared with Ziva on the next Girls' Night). Her second glamorous assistant, as she had taken to calling them, was one Leroy Jethro Gibbs, who would do anything for her as long as she smiled sweetly.

While Abby trusted science to always do the same thing every time, she did not trust people to the same degree. She had seen far too many people give presentations, only for them to fall apart because something unrehearsed jumped in and unnerved them. Hence her decision to give her glamorous assistants a dress rehearsal in the evidence garage. After hours, of course, as she was fairly sure the three of them (plus Ducky) spent more hours at the Navy Yard than they did their own abodes.

"It's a basic set-up," she explained to Gibbs and Jenny. "A standard crime scene with the potential for lots of blood, kindly donated by Palmer after he borrowed my favorite scalpel and used it to cut open Ensign Hodges, who turned out to have Hep C. _Just give me the word and I'll break him for you, Abs_," she growled in her best Gibbs impersonation, which earned her a smirk from both parties. "I know," she continued in her own voice. "And that is why I love you. Now, do we have everything?"

She watched as the ex-partners glanced around their makeshift crime scene and then at their own equipment. She'd put together two simple walls, trying to leave it as open as possible to give the probationary agents the widest viewing angle. The floor was made up of wooden planks donated by Gibbs, while the wallpaper was Ducky's remnants after he re-papered his mother's bedroom. An old floral armchair, from Tony, sat in the corner, with a wooden bookcase (Gibbs again) and a rug (Ziva) rounding out the furniture. Instead of books, the only object on the bookcase was a pair of nail clippers (Abby did not wish to damage any books with luminol).

Two days ago, she had created her blood spatter with Palmer's blood and then attempted to clean it up, not in the manner she would choose but in one regularly used at crime scenes. Lots of bleach and water would degrade the DNA and mask most of the evidence.

Except the luminol she had given to Gibbs and Jenny would light up the stains she had left behind, both blood and cleaning fluid. Especially on the wooden floorboards, which had been chosen on purpose.

Unfortunately, luminol only worked one time. After they had finished their rehearsal, she would have to completely clear up the 'crime scene' and spread more of Palmer's blood around. Despite the extra work, Abby hoped it would lead to a more realistic 'investigation' by her assistants who would not know where the spatter was to be found.

"Safety talk first," she reminded the agents.

"Goggles on," Gibbs replied. Abby rolled her eyes and made a mental note to give the safety talk herself. _Someone_ had to explain to new agents the way luminol worked.

The colored plastic safety glasses were completely unglamorous, but essential (unlike in CSI where everything of scientific importance was optional). They were quickly donned and Abby tried not to giggle as Jenny and Gibbs had a silent argument over who was operating what. Gibbs' glares won the day and he snagged the luminol, while Jenny was stuck with the camera.

"Let's turn out the lights and play in the dark," Jenny drawled, much to Gibbs' amusement and Abby's glee. The Goth flicked the lights off, leaving only a tiny lamp to illuminate their progress. While she had a funny feeling Gibbs and Jenny could navigate with suspicious ease in the pitch black, her probationary agents needed to be able to observe.

Gibbs started spraying the luminol by the door, knowing from experience that criminals rarely managed to leave the crime scene without leaving a handy trail behind them. Abby hadn't disappointed, and working silently and efficiently the agents followed the glowing drops of blood to the spot where the 'body' had lain. The blood had absorbed into the floorboards and Abby's bleach had only managed to smear it about on the surface.

"There's probably usable DNA if we take a sample," Jenny noted, snapping pictures rather close to Gibbs' face. Having spent so much time together at similar crime scenes, she was somehow managing not to smack the camera into him despite being so close.

"Need a knife?" Gibbs asked.

Jenny dropped one into the floorboards barely an inch from Gibbs' knee. "Being partnered with an Israeli assassin teaches you a few tricks," she teased.

"Care to share with the class, Shepard?" Gibbs smirked.

"A girl always need a trick up her sleeve."

"A lady doesn't show off."

"Since when have I been a lady?"

Abby bit her lip to stop her giggles escaping. Despite their banter, they hadn't wavered from their task. Now they were following the trail of blood drops to the bookcase.

"Still good with a camera, Jen."

"Better at developing the photos."

"Oh, I remember."

Abby was sincerely hoping there were dirty photographs in one of their houses. If Jenny was the photographer, presumably she had them. Perhaps she would have a snoop during their next Girl's Night.

Still working in silence, bar the flirting, the agents had made it halfway up the bookcase to the nail clippers. "Probable murder weapon," Jenny pronounced at the pool of blood surrounding them.

"Aren't they yours?" Gibbs questioned, cocking his head towards the redhead.

Jenny snapped a last picture and removed the camera away from her face to have a closer look. "I wondered where these had gone."

As one, they turned around to face Abby. She turned the lights back on and everyone blinked for a moment.

"We're going to have to do something about this," she announced.

"About you stealing my nail clippers the last time you were around and using them to disembowel a corpse?" Jenny queried.

Abby decided not to ask _how_ Jenny had known. The next part of her scenario for the new agents was to show them how she could prove the missing body had been disemboweled. "About the flirting."

"What flirting?" Gibbs looked confused.

"You know, the sharing of reading glasses, the standing in each other's personal spaces, _Oh shut up_," she impersonated Jenny this time. "_Make me_," she put on Gibbs' voice. "_Maybe I will_," she returned to Jenny's.

The agents glanced at each other, clueless.

"Maybe if we all wore the masks like we're supposed to, no one will be able to hear you flirt," Abby mused aloud. "It's a health and safety thing; I'm sure it's in the protocol somewhere. McGee will know it – I'll ask him to stand by and quote protocols at the agents, and maybe we can come up with a method to make you two stand further apart. What do you think of proximity detector electric collars? I can make some that go around your wrist like a bracelet and if you stand too close to each other, you'll get an electric shock. Only a minor one, mind; I don't want to hurt either of you. I could train you so you don't look as though you're about to go into the elevator and screw like bunnies –"

"I think you might need to cut back on her Caf-Pow! supply," Jenny told Gibbs.

"Okay, so that's a _no_ to the electric collars," Abby pouted. "What about if I –"

Gibbs shook his head, coming closer and placing a gentle kiss on her cheek. "When was the last time you had a break, Abs?"

She tried to calculate on her fingers, but Jenny cut her off. "I think it's time to go home. We'll clean up your crime scene for you."

She sighed, knowing when she was beaten. "Okay, but we'll talk about this tomorrow!" As she made her way over to the elevator, she couldn't help overhearing Gibbs' whisper to Jenny.

"Since when have we needed the elevator?"


End file.
